


Steel Magnolias

by jezza



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Florists, Hyunjin has a metal detector, Hyunjin loves boys and flowers, M/M, Seungmin is a florist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jezza/pseuds/jezza
Summary: Hyunjin’s a scavenger. But when he drops his heart, someone else picks it up.





	Steel Magnolias

**Author's Note:**

> I've only ever seen five minutes of Steel Magnolias, but the title was too good to pass up.

It was a mistake. An honest to god, foolish mistake, that resulted in perhaps the worst possible outcome. Hyunjin was quietly minding his own business, out in his favourite strip of nature reserve, when things took a sudden turn south.

The reserve is a great place for metal detecting; lost belongings of hikers and wayward teens finding a home under the leaves and dirt, all waiting for Hyunjin to come and rescue them. There’s the added bonus of the local council not giving a shit about what goes on there, so Hyunjin’s been scavenging there for the last few years with no trouble.

So naturally, when he’d found himself with an afternoon free from work, he’d hopped in his car and headed out to the reserve. It’d been a quiet afternoon; he’d only found a few stray coins, far too many bottle caps (he’s not even collecting them for the aesthetic anymore, he’s got three whole jars full) and one broken hiking pole.

It was music to his ears when a frantic burst of beeping had burst out of his detector. It was further than he’d ever been in the reserve, way out the back just before it faded out into the sleepy residential suburbs that have garden heavy blocks and perfectly trimmed nature strips sitting delicately on tree lined streets.

But the promise of something _good_ was too much to pass up. Hyunjin’s been a little disappointed with his findings lately- not just today, but the past week, the past _month_ \- so it’s with little hesitation that he keeps walking, eyes downcast on the monitor, barely noticing when unruly weedy grass gives way to smooth beds of almost artificially perfect green.

With the amount of noise coming from his metal detector, whatever is in the ground is something worth more than a little effort, so Hyunjin gets down to business. He pulls out the little pocket trowel he has for times just like this, maps a neat square in his mind, and starts digging.

Hyunjin kind of hates dirt, but it’s a necessary evil when there’s something beautiful waiting at the end of it. And something beautiful there is. He can see a glint of _something_ under all the dirt, so he pulls it out, brushes it off.

It’s pretty. He’s admiring it, feeling more than a little pleased with himself, when he hears a slamming door and what can only be described as a shout of rage.

“What the fuck are you doing digging up my garden, fuckface?” a voice yells, breaking Hyunjin out of his daze. “And you squashed my gerberas, good god, you little piece of _trash_ , wait until I get my hands on you!”

There’s a _very_ angry boy storming out the bungalow Hyunjin hadn’t really noticed earlier. He’s cute, Hyunjin notices, amongst the fury painted on his face and the determination in his steps as he marches down the porch steps towards Hyunjin.

“Oh! Sorry, I guess, I was just doing some metal detecting… I found a super nice vase in your garden though! Brass I think, looks like it’s from the twenties. Thirties, maybe,” Hyunjin rambles, brushing a little more dirt off of the vase, admiring the way it shines in the afternoon sunlight.

“Why the fuck do you even know that?”

“Well–”

“No wait, I don’t want to know,” he says, cutting Hyunjin off and waving his hand dismissively.

“You can keep it, if you want. It was on your land after all.” Hyunjin wishes he could stop the words coming out of his mouth because _he_ wants the vase, damn it. It would go so nicely on his shelf, right between the vintage flask and the one-winged model plane. But no. His collection is getting compromised for the sake of a cute boy. _Stupid_.

“What I want is for you to get off my land. Preferably without squashing anymore more of my flowers,” the boy says pointedly, eyeing where Hyunjin’s still kneeling in the grass, a stray flower held hostage by his left knee. Hyunjin winces, shifting a little, and watches the flower slowly spring back up far more sadly than it has any right to.

“I can do that,” Hyunjin laughs nervously. “I’ll just… put all the dirt back in the hole first.”

There’s really quite a lot of dirt. He’s made a real mess of it this time, he should at least _try_ to fix it.

But the boy just snorts. “You really think I’m letting you get anywhere near my garden again? I’m a florist; I can handle this just fine,” he grouses, tapping his foot in irritation.

Maybe Hyunjin’s a little star struck. He blames the weather. Twenty-four degrees is a treacherous temperature.

“If you’re sure…” Hyunjin trails off, not really wanting to leave just yet. His stomach’s a weird mess of guilt and butterflies.  

“Very. Goodbye.”

It’s with a dismissive wave that the boy leaves Hyunjin standing there, walking off to the shed sitting at the side of the garden. He disappears inside, and Hyunjin takes that as his chance to retreat back into the reserve. He really doesn’t think bungalow boy would be happy to see him still sitting there when he emerges from the shed.

 

*** 

 

Perhaps it’s the guilt. Or perhaps it’s the memory of the adorable way the boy had simultaneously raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips when mad. Either way, Hyunjin chooses to not think too deeply about exactly why he finds himself searching for all the florists in a ten-kilometre radius of that house.

He finds six. Hyunjin looks at his list, written out all neatly on the back of his shopping list, ink staining his fingers and seeping through the cheap paper. It’s a fail proof plan to apologise for his misdemeanour. And to maybe score himself a date. He’ll see where the petals fall.

 

***

 

The florist he goes to first is the one that’s closest to work. He drops by on his way home, just half an hour before it shuts. Hyunjin’s really not sure about the likelihood of finding the boy at this shop, because really, he can’t imagine him working anywhere that’s called _Cheer Up Buttercup_.

Nonetheless, Hyunjin dutifully makes the ten-minute walk, tossing his lucky coin as he goes. It’s a penny that he’d found at the beach one time, the only find of an utterly disappointing day of scavenging, but it serves as a reminder that good things can come from anywhere. From nowhere. From blue painted bungalows framed by gerberas.

The shop is _quaint_. There’s no other way to describe it; the sun catches the shine on the windows just right, polished to perfection, drawing his eyes to the vintage watering cans holding any and every type of flower one might want. And the door is painted bright, buttercup yellow.

Hyunjin can’t help but grin. It’s the small things.

The door has an old-fashioned bell on it, _of course it does_ , and Hyunjin takes delight in the faint echo that calls after the first ring, chasing at his heels as he wanders into the heart of the shop. There’s a boy at the counter, a cute boy, but not _the_ cute boy.

This cute boy is tiny – Hyunjin had thought he was sitting down at first, but then he’d rounded the corner and seen the legs. The black of his shirt and jeans and hair and beanie and literally everything is a little jarring to see amongst the yellow walls and endless rainbows of flowers, but then Hyunjin sees the nametag reading ‘Binnie’ and that’s that.  

“Afternoon,” Binnie says with a nod, and then he goes back to whatever it is he was scribbling down, humming a little under his breath. There’s no music in the store, but Hyunjin, for someone who listens to music like it’s his lifeblood, finds himself surprisingly unbothered. Binnie’s humming more than makes up for it; it nestles into the corners of the yellow walls, where the paint is starting to peel and crack, it wanders up trellises and along stems, it settles into Hyunjin’s ears with a calmness that makes him feel warm just like the yellow.

He likes this shop.

But it isn’t the shop he’s looking for.

“Can I get two yellow azaleas please?”

Binnie raises an eyebrow. “Just two?”

“Just two.”

Hyunjin waits as he gathers the flowers and wraps them carefully in cellophane. He’s stopped humming. It makes Hyunjin a little restless. He feels a little out of place now that there’s silence tracing its way along his fault lines.

Binnie slides the flowers over the counter. Hyunjin pays.

With a smile, he leaves, leaving behind sunshine, yellow, and yellow sunshine.

 

***

 

The next day, Hyunjin has no work. So, like any sane idiot, he plots out the most efficient journey between the remaining florists, sparing a glance to the azaleas before he leaves.

The first shop of the day is tucked into a little side alley. It doesn’t look like it gets much traffic, but when Hyunjin steps inside, there’s more than a few people browsing around. Bungalow boy seems to be the type to run a successful shop.

There’s two boys behind the counter, which makes sense, he supposes, considering the bustle inside the shop, not to mention the three extra people that just walked in. Neither of them are bungalow boy though, and Hyunjin almost turns to leave, but his eyes catch on the buttonholes the boys are wearing.

The blond has a poppy, the brunette a pink rose.

He likes them.

So he waits in line behind a woman carrying a copper vase and a bunch of gerberas. He approves.

“Could I get two poppies and two pink roses, please?”

“Ah!” the blond exclaims. “Did you perhaps like our recommendations?”

“You mean the…” Hyunjin gestures vaguely at their chests.

“Yeah. Each week, we wear a buttonhole of the flower of the week. This week though, Jeongin and I couldn’t agree, so we just went with both! Tell me, which is your favourite?”

Hyunjin glances between Jeongin’s shy, hopeful smile, and the blond’s wide grin.

“Uh…” Hyunjin can’t bring himself to extinguish either of the lights in their eyes. “I like them both?”

“See, Woojin! I _told_ you we should have personal choices sometimes. It makes it more interesting,” Jeongin whines. “Besides, I don’t want to have to wear red flowers _all_ the time.”

“Stop exaggerating,” Woojin says breezily, waving his hand. “Anyway, just those four for you today?”

Hyunjin’s startled a little when Woojin’s attention spins back round to him, but he nods, adding a smile for good measure, because that seems to be their trade more than flowers, and slides his credit card across the counter.

“Do come back sometime,” Woojin smiles, _again_. “We might have another disagreement on our hands next week.”

“Alright.”

Hyunjin’s never been one to leave a white lie. He’s certainly not starting now.

  

***

 

In a stroke of magnificent luck, Hyunjin manages to score a park right outside of the next florist. Which would be great and all if the shop was actually _open_.

_Back in ten minutes_ , the sign taped to the front door reads, and Hyunjin weighs it up. It’s only a five minute drive to the next florist- he may as well go there now and come back here later. He’s just starting the car again when a boy strolls up and starts unlocking the door.

Perhaps Hyunjin’s becoming lucky.

Hopping out of the car, he waits patiently behind the boy. Patience, it seems, is certainly a virtue because this florist can’t handle a deadbolt for the life of him.

“Do you need some help?” Hyunjin asks, growing more than a little concerned.

The boy jumps. He laughs it off though, turning around and pushing his hair out of his eyes. It’s a ridiculous orange that Hyunjin kind of loves.

“Please. The deadbolt’s a nightmare, I can barely get it on a good day.”

Hyunjin gently moves closer, his movement pushing the boy to the side. Orange haired boy wasn’t joking; the bolt’s stuck in a way that can only be the fault a temperamental timeworn lock that desperately needs replacing. He’d found an abandoned old deadbolt once, buried under a pile of timber and leaves, left for the world to break down and destroy as it liked. Some storms are made to be weathered by all corners.

Hyunjin manages to pull the bolt open after a short struggle, nodding in satisfaction. “You really should get that fixed,” he says, trailing after boy into the store.

Hyunjin can’t help it, but his eyes widen. Out of all florists he’s been to so far, this one is the greenest. It’s not just flowers for sale; he could buy a veritable garden here, what with the cuttings and pots lining the aisles, the makings of a forest sitting inside four walls on a bustling city street.

“I know. I just haven’t got around to it yet,” orange haired boy says a little sheepishly, but nevertheless, he goes around to a few of the displays, checking on a flower here, a fern there, giving each stem and petal his undivided attention.

Hyunjin wonders whether he gets around to much that isn’t botanical.

“How can I help you though?”

He considers. He tosses up his options. _Save face, or get what he really want_ s _?_

_Fuck it._

“Do you have any flowers the same colour as your hair?”

Orange haired boy blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

And then laughs. “Believe it or not, that’s not the weirdest request I’ve ever gotten.”

“Really?” That surprises Hyunjin, because _really_ , he sounds like a grade A stalker right about now.

“Really. I have some lilies you might like, I think.”

“Great.”

He watches from the counter, as orange haired boy floats over to particularly nice display, picking a few flowers out here and there.

“How many do you need, mate?”

“Just two, thanks.”

“Two lilies, just for you,” he presents with a flourish, and Hyunjin smiles.

He does like the lilies. They’re the right kind of pretty; delicate in the way the petals splay, strong in scent, bold in colour.

“They’re perfect, thank you.”

Orange haired boy grins, and really, what is it with florists and _smiling_. “You’re welcome. Maybe you should dye your hair. So you can match flowers to that instead.”

Hyunjin laughs, giving the boy some cash. “That’s not a bad thought,” he calls out over his shoulder, not waiting for his change, instead leaving the store with a cheery wave.

  
 

***

 

_Daisies for Days_ is loud. That’s the only adjective Hyunjin’s brain can come up with whilst trying to fight off the aggressive hums of whale song that’s blasting through the speakers. It strikes him as a little counterproductive, but hey, whatever works.

And it seems to be working for the boy behind the counter, because he’s out like a light, drooling on some invoices, till wide open. Hyunjin reaches over to shake him awake, pity curling in his gut, frolicking with the hope that no one else had been in here and had had the chance to rob the poor guy of anything and everything.

“Hey! Wake up!”

“What?!” the boy grumbles, lifting his head up, blinking at the bright lights of the store. Hyunjin wonders why they’re so bright if the guy’s just gonna go and play whale songs, but photosynthesis is a thing, he guesses.

“You good, man?” Hyunjin asks, chuckling a little as he leans against the counter.

“Yeah, sorry I was asleep, I’m just a little tired today. But enough of that! What can I do you for?”

There’s something about this guy that Hyunjin’s a little curious about; the way his tousled hair falls into carefully deliberating eyes that occasionally flick to the empty coffee cup on the counter in distaste.

“What would you recommend?” Hyunjin asks, happy to let someone else decide this time.

“What’s the occasion?” the boy shoots right back at him, and Hyunjin sighs.

“It’s awfully contrived and more than a little strange, so… it’s really up to you.”

“There’s a lot I can do with that,” the boy muses, hopping up and walking towards the backroom. “Come on.”

Hyunjin’s surprised, but he follows nonetheless, into a small room out the back, and then into _another_ small room, and he’s not entirely sure he’s not about to get murdered, but then he gets his head out of his arse and into his eyes, and _sees_.

The room is filled with carnations, white ones, so pale the light shines through them in a kind of brutal beauty.  

“They’re for a special project, but I have a few to spare, provided you don’t need too many. I guess these are a little, ah, _contrived_ as well.”

“I just need two,” Hyunjin murmurs, not even looking at him, too caught up in the shadows dancing in and out of petals.

“Great!”

The boy picks a few at random, leading Hyunjin back out into the main shop.

“Thank you, uh…”

“Chan. And you are?”

“Hyunjin.”

They nod. They smile. Then Hyunjin takes his flowers and leaves.

  

***

 

The fifth shop is kind of ugly. There’s nothing _wrong_ with it per se, but after the other explosions of colours, Hyunjin finds the dull grey walls of _Full Bloom_ a little disappointing. He’s not sure he can imagine bungalow boy working here.

He’s glad when he finds a different boy behind the counter, rocking out to the R&B playing over the speakers. It’s loud, certainly, but the way the boy moves invokes a silence, a moment of clarity amongst the mess.

(A mess not only of sound, but also of _stuff_. Hyunjin’s not sure he’s ever seen so much potting mix, in or out of bags.)

The nature of the movement’s familiar to Hyunjin. He feels it pulling at his bones whenever a particularly catchy tune comes on, and he knows, he just _knows_ that the boy has to be a dancer.

Hyunjin glances down at his thighs.

Yep. Dancer.

“Can I help you?” dancer boy asks brightly, flicking his fringe out of his eyes.

“Oh!” Hyunjin’s a little startled. He hadn’t really thought out this far, but he finds his brain is friendly at the moment, because what comes out next isn’t complete rubbish. “Do you have any lilacs?”

“Lilacs? Of course. How many bunches would you like?”

“Two, please.”

“Coming right up,” dancer boy sings, practically prancing his way over to a bucket in the corner, where, Hyunjin now sees, the lilacs are. “So, boy troubles then?” The way dancer boy says it is so casual that Hyunjin doesn’t even question it.

“Yeah- wait _no_. There’s no trouble?”

He gets a sly grin in response. “A boy then?”

“Not like that,” Hyunjin sighs, hearing the dissatisfaction in his voice. Because while this is about making amends, maybe that’s not where Hyunjin’s motivation ends.

Perhaps Hyunjin has a thing for cute grumpy boys.

Dancer boy hums. “Well, good luck making it _like_ _that_. The lilacs will help.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

When Hyunjin’s pushing the door open, wallet lighter not just from the flowers but from sticking a few notes in the tip jar, dancer boy calls out to him.

“Wear some tighter jeans when you see him! Show off those dancer thighs!”

Hyunjin turns back, startled, just in time to see the boy wink before disappearing into the backroom.

 

***

  

There’s only a little hope left in Hyunjin’s tank by the time makes it to the penultimate florist. There’s something that makes Hyunjin really _not_ want to go inside, and it may or may not be the garish sign hanging over the door that reads _Best Buds_.

If you’re going with flower puns, at least make it a good one.

He’s surprised by the inside though; amidst all the kitsch and chaos one would expect from a shop with such a name, there's a startlingly prevalent sense of comfort.  

Sitting on the counter is a little squirrel of a boy, swinging his legs back and forth to the Sia song playing over the speakers.

“Welcome!” he calls, hopping down with more spring in his step than anyone at the end of the working week should have. “What are you after, today?”

It’s a bit of a loaded question, really. Hyunjin can’t really blurt out _oh I’m looking for someone whose garden I dug up, but that’s not you, so_.

“Just looking for now, thanks.”

“If you need anything, just shout,” he sings, pointing at his name badge that says _Jarred_ in goddamn Comic Sans.

Lovely.

Hyunjin speaks before his brain catches up. “Your name can’t _really_ be Jarred.”

‘Jarred’ cackles. _Cackles_. “That’s because it’s not. But Friday is Jarred Day.”

Hyunjin just raises an eyebrow.

“I have a different name tag for every day of the week.” he explains. “It’s funny.”

“Sure,” Hyunjin says slowly. Right now, he’s much more interested in the flowers that have just caught his eye; sitting in a vase on the counter, vibrancy and commotion wrapped up on one little stem. “What are those?”

“Cornflowers,” ‘Jarred’ smiles, “I just ordered a bunch in. They’re really nice this time of year.”

“Could I get two, please?”

‘Jarred’ positively _beams_. “But of course! I’m so glad you said asked, no one really _appreciates_ cornflowers like I do.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, a little confused. “They’re nice though. Sort of… defiant.”

“And for that,” ‘Jarred’ says, “you can get a discount.”

“Thank you.”

“You are very much most welcome. Come back soon, alright?”

Hyunjin nods, taking the flowers from ‘Jarred’. It pains him to even think it, let alone _say_ it, but he has to. For ‘Jarred’.

“I will. I… I like your shop.”

The squeal he gets in return is worth it.

With a final smile, Hyunjin leaves, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.

 

***

 

Back at home, Hyunjin lays all the flowers out on the table. It’s really something, to see the stalks lined up in precise order, colours blooming bright against the dark wood, setting his mind on fire. His apartment feels _alive_ for once, the flowers breaking through the haze of rust that only grows when Hyunjin digs up something new.

It’s an intoxicating mix.

So he goes to his shelf and pulls down the vase from where it sits between the vintage flask and the one-winged model plane. Hyunjin knows next to nothing about flower arranging, but he tries anyway, setting stalks and petals inside a little old bucket of rust that has seen many better days. Maybe it’ll see more soon.

When he’s done, he steps back. Admires.

The yellow azaleas from Binnie.

The pink roses from Jeongin.

The red poppies from Woojin.

The orange lilies from the boy with the orange hair.

The white carnations from Chan.

The purple lilacs from dancer boy.

The blue cornflowers from ‘Jarred’.

Hyunjin nods to himself. Then he goes to make dinner.

  

***

 

He’s quietly hopeful this time. In a way, he has to be. Hyunjin doesn’t really fancy walking into a flower shop with a bunch of flowers he’d bought from their competitors, in an arrangement made by his own two clumsy hands, for no absolutely reason at all.

Maybe Hyunjin’s just the next great sleuth of his generation, or maybe it’s something to do with the four-leaf clover that got jammed into his metal detector a few weeks ago, but he considers himself some kind of blessed when he sees bungalow boy emerging from a backroom at the sound of the door falling shut.

“Wait, aren’t you the guy that dug up my garden the other day?” he asks, merely sounding amused, and Hyunjin’s shocked into silence at the startling absence of rage.

His brain kicks back into gear when that eyebrow is raised again. _Damn_.

“Uh… yes! I guess? That’s why I’m here actually. I wanted to apologise for that.”

The boy shrugs. “Thanks. It’s already forgotten. You seemed harmless enough.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know whether that’s an insult or a compliment.

“Thank you?” he tries.

“You’re welcome,” the boy says, settling himself behind the counter. He rests his chin on his hands and stares at Hyunjin. “Can I help you with anything else?”

Hyunjin’s eyes flick down to the name tag pinned to his shirt.

_Seungmin_.

It’s a cute name; it suits cute bungalow boy and Hyunjin kind of wants to scream it.

“Oh! I have these flowers...” he trails off, wondering how best to phrase what he needs to say next.

Seungmin beats him to it.

“That’s most hideous arrangement I’ve ever seen in my life,” Seungmin snorts. “Do you want it fixed?”

Hyunjin sighs. So much for that. “Please.”

Seungmin tuts a little as he starts pulling the flowers out of the vase, crinkling his nose a little.  
  
“So… what, you just go around digging stuff up?”

“Pretty much,” Hyunjin shrugs, a little put out with how it’s so easy to just package up and label what he does. “It’s more about the journey than what you find, really.” He pulls out his lucky coin. “This coin reminds me of an important life lesson. I have an empty old food tin at home that I like just because someone ate that once and hopefully had a good meal. This vase? It holds a good memory.”

Seungmin’s tilted his head a little as he listens, eyes wide. “Fair enough,” he says, trimming the stalks of the carnations. They go back into the vase first, and the absence of colour is startlingly congruent with the white noise running wild in Hyunjin’s head.

Seungmin picks up the cornflowers next. He studies them for a moment, before tossing them derisively into the vase.

“I can’t believe you bought flowers from _Jisung_ ,” he says, disgust dripping from his voice, but nonetheless, he moves the cornflowers delicately around the vase until he’s satisfied.

“Jisung?”

“The guy who sold you these cornflowers. He’s the only one that stocks them in this town. God knows why. They don’t sell well.”

“I like them,” Hyunjin mumbles. It’s nice to have name to put to the face; _Jisung_ certainly left an impression on him.

Seungmin snorts. “That’s Jisung’s influence for sure. That boy’s got some weird black magic going on. _Cornflowers everywhere._ ”

He makes it sound like the sixth circle of hell.

“You’ve certainly made quite the trip for this bouquet,” Seungmin says quietly, slotting a lily between the cornflowers.

Maybe it’s Seungmin that’s the one with the black magic, or he just knows this city’s flower shops really well. Tricks of the trade, Hyunjin supposes.

“It’s an important one,” Hyunjin says, not missing the way Seungmin’s hands still for a second at his answer.

They’re silent as Seungmin finishes off the bouquet. Hyunjin watches his hands move with an unassuming precision, gently cutting the occasional stalk and shifting the blooms to fit his design.

“Here. Free of charge. I hope you like it.”

Hyunjin thinks it comes out a bit shyer than Seungmin intends- his no bullshit attitude has softened remarkably ever since Hyunjin had wandered into the shop and he wonders if it’s against his will. He hopes so. He hopes not.  

“Thank you. It’s beautiful. Just a shame that I’m not keeping it.”

“Oh. I hope whoever gets it likes it just as much as you, then.” Seungmin deflates a little and Hyunjin’s only keeping this up because he’s determined to be somewhat smooth for once in his life.

“I’m sure he will,” Hyunjin says, and then is apparently completely done with being smooth, because he all but shoves the vase back over the counter towards Seungmin’s nervously tapping fingers.

“For me?” Seungmin’s eyes are even wider than they were before, and that’s no mean feat. It’s damn near the cutest thing Hyunjin’s ever seen, second only to the raging righteous fury of a Seungmin emerging from a bungalow.

“Yeah. Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

Seungmin’s grin is the brightest kind of light and Hyunjin’s tired of shadows.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Seungmin says, grabbing a stray slip of paper and scribbling something down. “Here’s my number. You’d better text me.”

He kind of ruins it by pulling out his intimidating face, but Hyunjin appreciates the effort.

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin laughs, “I will.”

 

***

 

They meet at a bar for their first date– Seungmin brings flowers, Hyunjin brings a vintage brooch that he’d found in Seungmin’s garden.

(He’ll never tell Seungmin, but it’s become his favourite place to scavenge.)

(Seungmin will never let on that he knows, and will stick to quietly sipping his tea while watching Hyunjin through his kitchen window.)  

 

 

 


End file.
